Always Watching
by Logie
Summary: Good looks can have deadly consequences . Slash warning cowritten with Passionate Fire on Hiatus forever. sorry!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Why the H-and double toothpicks do you think we'd be writing  
underprivileged fanfics if we owned this awesome flipping movie?!?! I mean,  
seriously. How gullible can you guys get?????

.A/N: Okay. So I just got into Newsies and my bestest friend Passionate  
Fire and I decided to write a Blush slash fic. Cuz we're awesome like  
that...It was mainly her who wrote the dialogue (cuz I'm really new to  
Newsies and still haven't figured it all out yet…but I'm getting there) but I came up with Flitch! Yay me...

Oh. Passionate says Hi.

And…it…starts!!!!

* * *

_August 6th, 1899 _

He's a beautiful young lad…much more pretty than what I've seen…He has the most beautiful Doe-Brown eyes that seem to pull you in…He's carved like a Grecian statue; every inch of him perfect. Hard to believe that young street rats can have the beauty and gracefulness of a white swan. He's more prettier than my blonde…companion. I think that my "partner" is wearing out after only a few days and I am in need of a new one. This beautiful, exquisite boy should fit to my needs completely...

* * *

(Mush)

Do ya ever get the feelin' that someone…something…is watchin' ya? Like, if you're just sellin' pape, mindin' your own business, and suddenly…ya feel a chill go down your spine?

If you haven't, be glad. It's the creepiest thing in the world.

I glanced around Central Park, trying to spot the someone that I _knew _was watchin' me. It couldn't be a Newsie…almost everyone had already left to go to dinner. And anyway, Central Park wasn't exactly crowded right now. A few bums were lying on benches, but that was it.

So what was watchin' me? A squirrel?

Nah.

I looked around again, more carefully then ever this time. Still, no one was---

Wait.

There!

That guy!

He was starin' at me from behind a tree, with a funny expression on his face. It almost looked like the kind of expression Jack gets when he's talkin' about a girl. Only this guy…I don't know. He looked much creepier than ol' Cowboy going on and on about Sarah.

I stared back at the guy, my chin lifting up in defiance. The man blinked at me for second, then smiled, not removing his gaze for one second. I felt unnerved.

Then, he mouthed somethin' to me.

I don't know what anyone else would have thought…but to me…

It looked an awful lot like he whispered "Soon."

"MUSH!!" came a voice from behind. Kid Blink was there, his usual smile gone and instead a worried frown was on his handsome face.

Not that I care.

"Heya, Blink," I said, forgettin' the weird man. "Whaddya know, whaddya say?"

His face looked even graver as he spoke. "Conlon's gone missin'" Blink said. "Brooklyn's callin' a meetin', and Jack wants me an' you there for backup. Wese gotta go. Now."

I tried to organize my scrambled thoughts. "Spot's missin'?" I asked, throwing down my unused papes on the sidewalk. A meetin' was much more important, and no person was around no more.

"Yeah," Blink replied. "I guess last week he bought his papes and then just disappeared. Nobodies seen him since."

"Youse sure he didn't just run away?" I tried to keep up with Blink's fast pace. His feet are much bigger than mine.

"Considerin' they found his hat with blood on it…" Blink told solemnly. "I'd say dat was a yes."

Oh.

Damn.

"So…I guess we better go then." I said, taking a glance back at the tree. The man was gone.

* * *

(Blink) 

When we got to the bunkroom, all the other leaders were there. There was the leader of Queens, Fat Max, the leader of Harlem, Snap Trot, and their seconds and thirds in line for their title. The only one that was missin' was Spot Conlon. That was why we was all there, I guess.

""Ey, Blink!" Jack called, motionin' me and Mush ta sit on a lower bunk. Jack then turned to the boy sittin' next to him, Flitch, the "second-in-command" of Brooklyn, "Everyone's here."

Flitch, a tough newsboy that had immigrated from Britain, began to speak.

"So I was thinking'…" he said, his accent barely notible. "Wese should all sell in groups; no mattah what. Someone's out ta get us, and no one is safe."

Personally, I thought Flitch was just bein' paranoid. He was too jumpy for his own good. That was why he was second-in-command' in Brooklyn.

Then again, Spot's gone. So I guess he's not second in command anymore.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, his token bandanna crooked. "Let's do dat. Tell all your boys to sell in two or more, okay?"

The other leaders nodded, agreeing without question. Jack was one of the more powerful borough leaders. He and Spot ruled the Big Apple.

"Okay," He said. "Dis meetin' is adjourned."

But was it really enough?

The leaders began to file out, leaving me, Jack, and Mush alone in the room. The other Manhattan boys--Dutchy, Skiitery, Boots and all the others-- ran in, sensing' that something' was wrong. They hadn't heard about Spot.

"What's wrong, Cowboy?" Snitch asked. "Why's Flitch heah and not Spot?"

Jack looked sad. "Cause," He said. "He's missin'."

Is it just me, or did Racetrack's face freeze a little bit more than anyone else's?

* * *

-The Next Day- 

(Mush)

"What's the deal wit' you kids today?" The old guy who had been paid to replace Weasel asked. "Youse sure seem down."

It was true. Every one of us, even the little kids, were scared and worried. Hardly anyone was joking around. An eerie calm had filled us all. Jack had assured us yesterday that Spot was probably fine and was hidin' out somewhere, but none of us was that stupid. He was gone.

"Dunno, Mr. Harshback," I said, picking up my thirty papes that I had bought. "See ya."

Blink was right behind me, and within minutes had caught up with me.

"Mush," he said, "I don't wanna be partners."

I felt my tongue stickin' in my mouth all dry-like. We'd planned this out yesterday. We was gonna work together and stick ta each other like glue.

"W-why?" I asked, wondering why I was so uptight about it.

'Cause," Blink said calmly. "The headlines are good; and we don't need a gag or nothin' to sell 'em. We can do fine on our own."

"But Jack said…"

"Aw, you're nothin' but a little Mama's Boy," He jeered.

I was insulted. My mama had died years ago from pneumonia when I was real little. I was there, too. Then my Papa had gotten ill too, and pretty soon I was all alone.

"I am not!" I retorted.

Blink scoffed. "Are too--oh no, wait."

I could feel somethin' bad was gonna happen. I was right, too.

"Your Mama's dead," He finished.

By this time my blood was boilin', and my feelings for Blink, brotherly or otherwise, were gone in a flash like dat.

It wasn't like his Ma wasn't dead neither.

"Shut up about my Mama, Blink!" I yelled, earning strange looks from passerby. "Mama's boy, mama's boy!" taunted Blink. Where was the nice, carin' guy I knew?

"I AM NOT!" I yelled, close to tears now. I threw down my papes and began to attack him, one punch after another.

Blink was a better fighter, though, and soon had me pinned down under his weight. "Lemme go!" I squeaked.

He shook his head. "I was just kiddin', Mush, no need to--"

I had heard enough. With as much strength as I could muster up, I pushed the boy off of me and ran away. I was goin' to Central Park again. Blink would never find me there.

I was half hoping he'd follow me, maybe to finish the apology he'd started or something'. But he didn't. Kid Blink just stared after me, lookin' kind of sad.

I rushed to the park, my legs tired and sore from all that runnin'. I could barely feel my achy legs as I curled up on my usual bench and tried to hold back the tears that were darin' to slip out of my eyes and onto my cheeks.

* * *

(Blink) 

"Hi, Blink!" A small, hyper, Les said, running up to me and hugging me  
around the middle. It nearly scared me to death

"Woah--oh, hi, Les." I patted his head.

"Is there somethin' wrong?" He asked me, readin' my face. Sometimes I wear  
my heart on my sleeve. It's one of my weaknesses

"Nah," I replied. I waved to his older brother. "Hey, Dave. "

"Hey." replied the other, looking at me curiously. "Are you sellin' with  
Mush today?"

I felt my cheeks start to flame, and stuttered out a lie. "I-uh-well, he's  
going to sell with someone else."

"Oh," said David.

He offered to sell with me, and I agreed. I really didn't want to sell  
alone, like I'd told Mush

I was just scared.

Like Mush.

I wondered if he was really serious when he was talkin' about that guy in  
the Park.

He was probably just jumpy, or somethin'.

But I get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was tellin' me the truth…

* * *

(Mush) 

I curled my arms over my legs like a small child afraid of gettin' hit.

Things couldn't get any worse.

I guess if I hadn't been wallowing in my own self-pity

I would have noticed the hard, blunt object swinging across my path.

But I didn't.

Before I could do anything to protect myself

a sharp pain greeted me in the head

and then I was greeted by darkness

And the sensation of

F

A

L

L

I

N

G

I knew no more.

* * *

_Review, and we'll give you cookies shaped like Blinky-182 and Mushy!!!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Hahahahah. We bet you thought we were DEAD, huh? Well…WE AREN'T!!! YAY!!!1 …KAKAPOOPOOPEEPEESHIRE!!!1 We had sweet tea…sorry.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: …do we REALLY have to repeat ourselves? NO!**_

_**R&R!! ..please.**_

(Blink)

I sat up in my bed, listening to silence except the occasional snore or thecreak of a mattress. It didn't feel right how Mush wasn't here. It felt...empty.

I stared at the wooden ceiling, thoughts runnin' through my head. The thoughts went somethin' like this: Mush, worry, Mush, Spot, Mush, worry, Mush… you get the picture.

Damn. I really needed a cigarette.

I'd sold the whole day with David and Les, sure to keep my distance away from the park. Mush has always gone there since he was little. It makes him feel better when he's upset. He don't think we knows about it, and it's kind of a comfort to him—

No. Don't think about Mush.

Anyway, I'd sold with Davey and Les for the whole day. I even ate lunch with them, and bought the afternoon edition with the brothers too. I figured Mush was coolin' off somewhere and when it was time for curfew he'd be back.

He wasn't.

Of course, Kloppman (and, more importantly, Jack) had forbidden me to go look for him right away. They told me that it was late, it was dark, and I'd be an idiot if I went out there alone to look for Mush. They told me that the sensible thing to do would be to look for him tomorrow. Jack swore on his mother's good name that everyone who could afford it would help me look, and that we'd find him somewhere okay and alive.

His tough exterior and reassurances couldn't—wouldn't—fool me. He was terrified about Mush.

And when everyone else found out about his disappearance, they weren't exactly happy neither.

This was bad. Real bad.

And it was all my fault.

I closed my eye, tryin' to relax. I pictured fluffy clouds in my mind, and began to count them. One, two, three.

When I got to about twenty, I was startin' to sleep. Counting clouds always made me fall asleep like that.

It was a technique that Mush had taught me…

(Mush)

I felt myself on cold, hardwood floor, a dull pain stingin' the back of my head. I tried my best to think about what happened, but all I remembered was Blink…and my hate for him. I opened my eyes slightly, but I only saw dark, so I squinted, hopin' it would help me see. It didn't.

I closed my eyes to think about everythin' that happened today…yesterday…and why my head hurt so bad…Let me see…Blink told me he didn't wanna sell with me…and then he insulted my mama…I remembered all that…but then what happened…? I thought about all the things I coulda done, or where I coulda gone. …What Blink said hurt me, and when I'm sad…or I wanna think about  
somethin'…I go to the park!

So I went to the park, to think I guess…and then…somethin' hit me! …but what? It was really hard…but that's all I remember.

"What hit me…?" I whispered aloud unconsciously

"Mush…? Is that you?" a small, scared voice asked

I opened my eyes quickly. That voice…sounded like…

"Mush…it's me…Spot." the voice whispered.

My lip quivered. I had to be hearin' voices. No one knows where Spot is…he can't be here. I felt tears in my eyes. I was so scared…and the only one who can fight away my fears…is Blink.

But I can't-won't-think about him.

"Mush…answer me…please," the voice whispered.

The voice was back again…

"Mush! Answer m-" a light flickered on.

I could tell that the light was an oil lamp that was dimly lit. But soon, the light grew brighter. And then I saw someone next to me…

Spot. So I wasn't hearin' voices..

"So I see…that your replacement has woke up." a scratchy male voice said to Spot

I was fixated on Spot. There was so much fear in his eyes…I had nevah seen Spot so scared…well…I had nevah seen Spot scared…he was always real brave. And there was somethin' you'd nevah see in his eyes…tears. Spot was terrified.

"So, pretty boy…" the man said, holdin' my chin and rubbin' his finger along my cheek bone, "I think you're gonna have…fun with me."

His hand sent chills down my spine. It was real smooth, like a lady's glove. Not rugged and cut up like mine were.

"What…what do you want with me an' Spot?!" I demanded with fear

"Oho…no…not you and ol' Blondie here…just you." he said, tightenin' his grip  
on my chin.

I tried to move my arms to push him off a' me, but I found out that they were tied behind my back…and my ankles were tied together too.

The man cackled and let go of my chin. Then he grabbed my shirt and pulled me over to a wall, makin' Spot's figure barley visible. I watched him walk back over to Spot.

He grabbed Spot by his hair and pulled him up close to his face. I could see Spot shakin'…but that was it. I watched the man grab somethin' off of a table. And when a bit of it hit the glow of the lamp, it shined. Almost….like a knife.

The man attacked Spot mercilessly. I could hear his screams roarin' in and out of my ears like a train as I tightly squeezed my eyelids shut. Spot was gonna die, here on this cold, hard floor, and soon I was gonna go next. So many things I hadn't done, seen, felt…or said. I was too young to die.

As Spot's pain filled yells drew to a close, I hesitantly opened my eyes. Expectin' to see a dead body, I was shocked when I realized Spot was lyin' under the guy, and he was still breathin'

Don't you go thinkin' something nasty, though. It wasn't like that.

Nah, the guy was takin' somthin' outta a jar, and smoothin' it all over Spot's bare back.

Spot would shudder, and the guy would blow a cool stream of air from his mouth onto the wounds.

Then Spot would relax. I watched, wide eyed, as the guy finished doin' whatever he was doin' to Spot.

The man squatted next to Spot's head, and patted it gently. He whispered somethin', but I couldn't make it out. It sounded as if he said he was sorry.

He turned Spot's body around to where Spot's back was on the ground. The Man put one of his arms under Spot's neck, and the other under his knees. He carried him over to where I sat.

Then he walked over to me.

I tried my best to scoot away, but it's awful hard when you're tied up like a bundle of papes. I barely made it five inches before he grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me closer to him.

"I'm sorry you had to see Andrew do that." The man said. "I am Francis."

My very mixed up brain got even more confused. If he's Francis…who's Andrew? No one's in the room, 'cept for me an' Spot!

"What—hell—you're the only one heah!" I choked out, scared that the knife was gonna plunge into me next. The man's –Francis, I mean—face hardened. The glow of the oil lamp made his face light up like a demon from hell.

He tightened his grip on my shoulder and then suddenly let go.

"No, Andrew," He mumbled, jerking like he was havin' a fit. "Not now. No, No, NO!"

He let out another gasp, and stumbled out of the dark room, slammin' the door. He took the oil light as he left, which left me an' Spot in complete and total darkness once again.

Shit.

Now, I ain't a pussy or nothin'...but I really hate the dark. Always have, always will. When I was small I used ta think that the monsters under the bed would come an eat me. I don't think that no more, but the dark still kinda scares me. And right now, in this room, I was cold, scared, hungry, and in pain.

It didn't help that it was dark, and that it didn't look like it was gonna be light anytime soon.

I closed my eyes, hopin that this was all a dream...

but dreams aren't like this...

"Mush," Spot's voice said, jerkin' me outta my reverie. "How longs it been, huh? I lost track afta the third day."

"Waddaya mean...?"

"How. Longs. It. Been." He repeated. I was glad ta see that some o' dat commanteerin' presence of his was still in 'im. He was the leader of Brooklyn, after all.

"…A week," I said, scared about how weak my voice sounded.

"Really, now," replied Spot. His voice was small and distant.

A thought occurred to me. Wow. Two in one day. That don't happen too often.

"Hey, how come youse ain't dead?" I demanded in the darkness. "Youse got some Superman qualities non 'o us knew about?"

"Ya really are naïve, ain't ya?" He asked, laughing a little. Spot's voice was full of irony as he added, "'Besides, it ain't like he stabs me or nothin'. Just takes the skin off me back, is all."

It took me a while for that to sink in.

"He skins you?" I repeated, the horror of his statement rippin' through me.

"Shoah--"  
_  
HOW CAN HE BE SO CALM?_

"Just like one o' dose Indians Jacky-Boy is always goin' on an' on about."

My eyes bulged out. I took a few deep, calmin' breaths, shudderin' inwardly. This was not good. This was not good at all.

"Youse t'ink—" I stuttered. "Youse t'ink he's gonna do the same thing to  
me?"

"How the hell should I know?" he replied. Spot was irritated. "It hoits like hell, in case you're wonderin—but he don't kill ya. In any case, wese getting' outta heah alive. My boys'll find us."

"You shoah?"

"Dere're Brooklyn boys, Mush. Dey'll find us. Brooklyn nevah fails."

Spot Conlon's ego was much to big for his head, his body, even. It amazed me how a short little thing like him could install fear (or in my case, hope) in even the toughest Newsie. In any case, it raised my sprits slightly.

"—Now, if it was just youse, and Cowboy was goin' afta you, I'd have serious  
doubts—"

Oh, gee. Thanks, Spot, I thought. My inner sarcasm was kickin' in. I ain't usually sarcastic, but I can be as bad as Blink or David when I want to. I'd just seen Spot get skinned with a knife. I think I deserved sarcasm.

"—But wese should be okay—"

The door opened again. Francis—Andrew—whoever he was, strode in. As the light of the moon shone through, I could tell what he was carryin' in his hand.

Two gags.

He apologized to me and Spot again and again as he tightly knotted the cloth. It tasted real bad, like newspaper ink, almost, and I wondered where it had been before.

"There," He said, satisfied. "Be good, now. I'll be back in a few minutes to bring you boys some food. I know you haven't eaten all day."

My stomach suddenly grumbled loudly. I realized he was right. It had been mornin' when I'd been—uh, taken—and now it was night. All I'd had was a paltry piece of bread.

Francis/Andrew spun on his heel and walked right back out the door without another word. I watched him go, wishin' with all my heart he would suddenly drop down dead.

Too much to wish for, right?

xXx

Three hours had passed. The silence was just killin' me. Francis hadn't come back yet. Maybe he had dropped down dead!

Course, that wouldn't be a good thing. Nobody knew where we were; we'd surely starve to death.

Damn.

The sun was startin' to rise, and through the dark, dusty windows I could see a ray of sunshine beam through. Any other day, Kloppie would have been wakin' us up, bonkin' our heads with his broomstick and yellin' at us like the old guy he is. I wondered if he was doin' that just this very minute.

As the light from the sun grew brighter and brighter, the smell grew stronger and stronger. I wrinkled my nose up. The stench was terrible. I'd smelled some nasty things before, but this was just awful. It was a combination of dead meat and vomit and garbage, nearly overpowering. My gag reflexes kicked in, and I fought to control them.

Quickly, I put my face on the cold ground, and slid my cheek across the floor. It tore at my skin, but I was able to pull the gag away from my mouth. It was still around my neck, but it was away from my lips. Even though I was tied up, I doubled over and started to retch. It seemed liked I released my insides as my vomit spilled onto the floor. Eww…nasty…disgusting…bl-

"Ya get used to it afta awhile," Spot mumbled, who had apparently taken his gag off, "The first few days are hell, though…"

For the first time, I took a full look around the room; as the sun rose enough for light to shine through the window. I realized why it smelled as bad as it did.

There was a long shelf around the wall of the room, crowded with glass jars. In the glass jars, there was some sort of green liquid and a shadow of something small and shriveled- looking in each one. Under the shelf, there was a long box. The box was shaded, so I couldn't see what was in it, but it smelled terrible. Whatever was stinking up the room was surely in there. Probably a body--who knew what this psycho could do?

But, soon enough, I was soon to find out, for Francis/Andrew came into the room once more, carrying a tray of food. My stomach churned and I was doubled over again, spilling my insides outside.

Francis/Andrew's yellow eyes roamed over me, creepily taking in my face and body. He nodded with approval, until he trailed up to my mouth and seemed to realize it wasn't supposed to be hanging open in disgrace.

Quickly, he set down the tray (thank god for small favors) and leaned down next to me. I could feel his breath on my ear as he went down close and whispered, "Why do you have your gag off, darling?"

"I…didn't want to choke--"

Francis/Andrew grabbed my neck and squeezed, making me splutter and gasp. Tears jammed up in my eyes and I choked, sure I was about to die.

"I never told you to take off the gag," he said while squeezing. "Do not _ever _disobey me again, Mushee, or your stay with me will be very painful…and short."

He let go of my neck, and I fell; moving it in a circle. I was dangerously close to my throw-up.

I glanced over at Spot, sure he was about to get the same treatment, or worse, as me. But Conlon was crumbled up, his chin resting on his chest, giving the appearance of "still gagged."

I let out a sigh. At least one of us was safe. For now.

Francis/Andrew walked to the tray and picked it up, carrying it over to me. He set it down gently, ignoring the pile of sick, as if he couldn't see it. The bearded man grabbed a spoon from the bowl of--what was it? Gruel? Soup? Did it matter? --and drew it to my lips. He forced me to open my mouth and dribbled the stuff down my throat.

After many spoonfuls of whatever he fed me, he moved over to Spot, who took the stuff in better than I did. He gobbled it down hungrily. I don't know how, but he did. Tough man, that Spot Conlon.

Francis/Andrew stood up, collecting Spot's bowl and spoon and putting it back on the tray, and mumbled, "I need to go to work." And with that, he exited the room, and us for however many cherished hours…

I took in a breath, and with a squeaky voice I asked, "What's gonna happen to us, Spot…?"

"I don' know, Kid." Spot said tiredly. That was the end of that.

(Blink)

"--but Jack, youse said I could--"

"Dat was yesterday. Dat was before I found out youse barely had enough money for papes, let alone food and lodgin'.'

"Yeah, but...Mush is more important that all dat!"

Jack bit into his piece of bread and sipped at the bitter coffee as he walked, looking deeply troubled. "Yeah, and dat's why me an' Race an' Skittery and EVERYONE WHO CAN AFFORD IT are gonna look."

I frowned. "Look, I NEED to look for 'im. I KNOW where ta look, Jack!"

Jack stared at me for a minute and I felt my heart speed up. Maybe I had a chance of convincin' him!

Of course, me being me, I had to blow it.

I opened my mouth again and said, "Everyone in Brooklyn's lookin' for Spot, why can't we all look fer Mush?"

Jack's face darkened and he looked incredibly angry. My heart sank as he replied, "I said no. We'll find 'im. Youse need to sell."

That was it. I was done takin' this shit. Mush was gone, and Jack wasn't exactly the smartest tool in the shed. He'd never find Mush.

I angrily tossed my tin cup of bitter coffee onto the ground, earnin' myself disapproving looks from the nuns.

"Jack, youse know I know more about Mush than youse evah will! Just let me—"

"Ise said no, Blink." Jack was calm, cool, and collected. I couldn't see how he could be that way. I bet if it was David who was missin', why, everyone would be scourgin' the ends of the earth.

"Ise. Don't. Care. What. Youse. Say. Ise have every right to help find 'im!" I said, grittin' my teeth.

Jack tried to grab my arms to calm me down--people were starin'--but I twisted and managed to get out of his grasp

With a strangled yell, I escaped and pushed my way through the crowd of boys.

Screw Cowboy.

I had better things to do.

(later)

Racetrack found me sittin' at the docks, smokin' my last pack a' cigarettes.

"Hey," He said quietly, as I stared at the deep, murky water. "No luck, huh?"

"No," I replied, feigning nonchalance.

And it was the truth, too. I'd searched high and low, and there wasn't a trace of Mush. Nobody'd seen him since yesterday. It pretty much killed my hopes of him just runnin' away to cool off. The next time I'd probably see him would be floatin' in the river. Dead.

At that thought, my throat choked up and I found that I couldn't take another drag on my cigarette. I took it out of my mouth and threw it in the water. The cigarette made little ringlets where it landed.

Racetrack clamored down next to me, short little legs swingin' over the sides.

"God, she stinks." He said, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah," I agreed. My voice was hoarse.

"How come youse like it down heah?"

"Relaxin'," I said.

"Cause it's abandoned?"

"Yeah."

We sat in silence for a while. Then Race said:

"Jack's real worried about youse, ya know."

I looked up at him clearly for the first time. "He is?"

"Yeah. You oughta seen him. He thought youse was gonna take a jump right offa da Brooklyn Bridge!"

I scoffed. "I would nevah do dat."

"Yeah. Dat's what Ise told 'im. And he still wasn't convinced. Ya gotta go back and talk ta him before he decides ya oughta be locked up fer good."

I snarled. I knew where this was going. Race wanted me to give up the search, just like Jack did. He didn't want me to look no more.

"Look," Racetrack plowed on, without lettin' me get in one word. "All I'se tryin' to say that youse ain't the only one who cares about Mush. 'e's my best friend too, ya know."

"He's more than my best friend," I said. I stared out into the settin' sun, watchin' it go down in a flurry of oranges, pinks, and yellows. "Mush…."

Before I could say anymore, though, me and Race were startled by the shoutin' of a man.

"Hey! You kids!"

We turned around suddenly, hoppin' to our feet. A strange lookin' guy was standin' right behind us. He looked awful mad and before me and Racetrack could escape he had grabbed us by the collars and dragged us to him. I winced as he breathed right into my face; his breath was foul and smelled like alcohol.

"I oughta call da bulls on you wise guys,' he threatened hoarsely. "Dis is private property!"

I shared a look with Racetrack and before the guy knew it I had kneed him where it hurts the most. As he sank to the ground in pain, we loosened his grip and took off.

Weird.

But I still didn't know where Mush was.

_**REVIEW!! …please…we beg of you!!! Right now, shout-outs are overrated. We are tired, and it is 4:04 AM, and we haven't had coffee. Blaaaaaaah…**_


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